YOLO: Being Content vs. Being Complacent.

It was one of those perfect days. Everywhere surrounding me, the blue of the water greeted the blue of the sky, while golden sun rays flirted with the lapping waves. We lounged on a pontoon boat, sipping a crisp summer shandy, watching children giggle and play. The sun engulfed us in a warm embrace, while a cool breeze gently caressed our cheeks. Our friend while driving the boat turned back to look at us, his face plastered with an unadulterated, fully committed grin, and said,

"Does life get any better than this? I submit that it does not."

Truly, I'm not sure that it does.

As I return home from 7 days of relaxation, first on the lake then on the beach, I am reflecting on moments when I felt truly content:

Driving in the car with the Beatles on repeat, feeling the warm touch of my boyfriend's hand.

A three-year-old cuddles up next to me, so that we can look at her painting.

Engorging ourselves in a feast of turkey and mead, while laughing the day away with friends.

Standing on the beach while the waves tickle my toes.

Lazing about on the dock with my fishing pole deep in the sea.

These are normal moments of contentedness that I'm sure many of you have experienced while on vacation, and perhaps long for throughout the year. This is why we choose the same vacation spots year-after-year, so that we can re-create that sense of security and hope. Yet, this past week has reminded me of moments in recent weeks when my contentedness was not dependent on the stillness of the world around me but on the stillness of my heart in that moment.

Amid the anxiety of preparing students for Confirmation, I was able to hear students express their faith before Session, declaring that although they still have many questions, they know for certain that there is nothing they can do to make God love them less.

Sitting in a pizza joint with my boyfriend, both of us feeling overwhelming concern for our future - where we will live, where we will work, how we will sustain the many demands of life. Yet in spite of our anxieties, we sit together, united in partnership.

In the middle of a long run when I am tired and lacking motivation, my muscles aching, my lungs stinging, my brain singing the constant refrain of, "let's just walk." Suddenly, the aches and pains and discomfort, all of it reminds me that I am alive, and I am soaking in God's creation as I push myself farther along.

As my boyfriend so aptly put it, one of our biggest problems in Christianity is our lack of "the present." We relish in the past, remembering the sacrifice of Christ and the promises of God through Word and Sacrament. We teach children our collective memory in Sunday School, by teaching them biblical stories and memorizations. We remember the golden years of our church, when hundreds flocked through our doors and we held a prominent place in the community. We remember our saints and our pastors, who led us with vigor and loyalty.

Yet we also dream of the future. We ask for "God's kingdom to come," and we dream of pearly gates and fluffy clouds. We talk of heaven, as though it is our next vacation spot. When we meet someone in need, we dream of their quick recovery; when we meet someone who is not a Christian, we envision their conversion. When couples get together, we begin planning their weddings; when couples get married, we begin planning their children. When new people darken our doorstep, we dream of their new membership.

All of these things can be good and healthy. Many a church has fallen into the trap of complacency: they assume that people will enter their doors without any reaching out on their own part. They feel content with giving money rather than time or relationships in mission. They stick to the same missions, programs, and events because, well, that's just the way it's always been. They have become complacent, taken the church (as a gift from God) for granted. This is a real problem in the church, but it is not the same.

There is a major difference between contentedness and complacency. We are really good at complacency and not so good at contentedness.

I believe that God desires contentedness for God's self, while simultaneously despising complacency. The best example I can give of this is when Jesus feeds the 5,000 (Matthew 14, Mark 6, Luke 9, John 6). In this story, Jesus desires for the people to share a meal together. Think about sharing a meal: you eat until your are full, you enjoy one another's company, you live in one of those "vacation moments" I spoke of. In the story, Jesus makes everyone sit down. I won't call this great exegetical work, but I will say that sitting seems much more restful, peaceful, and content than standing. A person standing is prepared to leave; a person sitting is resting into that moment. Then, after making a small amount of food into a large enough amount of food, each gospel records that the people seated ate until they were satisfied. Jesus, under no obligation, provides for the contentedness of the crowd, so that they might rest in one another's presence and rest in His presence.

Furthermore, Jesus combats complacency in this story. The disciples clearly have a common routine for things like this. They provide discussion, healing, and teaching, but they do not provide food. The fact that Jesus wants to provide food is astonishing to them. They grumble that this will cost them tons of money and that there still won't be enough. They don't want to change; they want the false comfort of routine rather than the unknown peace of Jesus' satisfaction. Jesus does a new and risky thing and in so doing provides for contentedness.

So often, I believe we are made to feel guilty if we are enjoying the moment. Somehow, if we savor this moment rather than move forward, we are halting the progress of the church. Meanwhile, I feel an argument could be made that Jesus savored every moment of his time on earth. If Jesus was constantly looking forward to his death, why would he have lived? Even more, why would he have lived so fully? And so I challenge us to carpe momentum: seize the moment!

I want to feel content while holding my boyfriend's hand, not looking forward to marriage or children, but enjoying our relationship as it is today.

I want to feel content holding the children of my friends, not looking forward to children of my own.

I want to feel content in worship on Sunday morning as I receive the elements of communion, feeling connected to this time and this place, rather than simply to the somber events of old.

I want to feel content in the struggle to discern God's call in my life, not just longing for its finish or wishing it had never grabbed hold of me.

I want to feel content in my relationships with people who are not followers of Christ, not longing for their conversion or planning my next witness.

I want to feel content by feeling the world through all my senses, whether they be good or bad, because they are real, and this is the only life I've got.